Painfully Obvious
by chocolate.diamonds
Summary: Draco Malfoy: businessman, friend, son, father and...Hermione Granger's Romance Advisor? How in the name of Merlin did that happen?
1. Chapter 1

**Painfully Obvious**

**A/N:**** Hey! This is my first Fanfiction so any type of review is fine with me – even criticism! Although, I'd prefer if it was constructive, because otherwise it's just mean! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this fic. I'll try my hardest to update whenever possible though I can't make promises; coursework and revision alone manage to take up a hell of a lot of time! But I'm not going to abandon this because it's one of the few things that help me unwind (believe it or not)! **

**So Please Read and Review and let me know what you think! **

**Summary: **Draco Malfoy: businessman, friend, son, father and…Hermione Granger's romance advisor? How in the name of Merlin did that happen?

**Chapter One:**** A Chance Meeting at an 'Exceptional' Establishment**

Those who knew anything about Draco Malfoy knew how stubborn he was. Once he'd set his mind on something then that was it. There was no going back until he got what he wanted; no expense spared and Merlin help anyone who got in his way. Being told that he couldn't do something, or wasn't _allowed_ to do something, didn't sit well with him. Usually when faced with a problem, the young Mr Malfoy would simply chuck as many galleons as needed towards it, before the fire eventually doused out.

But this time, no amount of galleons in the world would help. Draco Malfoy may have been a stubborn man, but if he was stubborn then the council were downright obstinate.

"What the bloody hell do you mean, '_my proposal has been rejected'_?" he yelled angrily at his architect who looked as though he'd rather be in the Forbidden Forest alone with no source of protection then here with the intimidating blond man.

"I'm sorry Mr Malfoy, but the council simply _won't_ allow you to build another extension!"

"Why the hell _not_? It's not like a few more acres is going to hurt anybody!"

"Well, they feel that you would be destroying a considerable amount of the woodland by building on top of it, more than what is prohibited…"

"A _considerable_ amount? I won't even be touching a _third_ of it!" Draco exclaimed, his hand slamming down hard on his heavy oak desk, the sound causing the already on-edge architect to jump a foot in the air. "LISA!"

A moment later and Draco's ditzy secretary appeared at the door looking… frazzled to say the least. Her short auburn hair had been pulled into some sort of bun at the top of her head, but there were strands falling out all over the place. Her sensible skirt and blouse were slightly wrinkled, she had ink stains on her fingers and her thick-rimmed glasses were lopsided on her small face.

"Y-yes, Mr Malfoy?" She squeaked.

"I want you to owl the council immediately and set up a meeting with Mr Nolan. Do not take no for an answer! I will not allow that pathetic excuse for a man to dictate what I can and cannot do! And fix yourself up while you're at it; I will not have my hotel represented by you when you look like you've just rolled out of bed! This is not what I'm paying you for!" He barked angrily.

Liz nodded vigorously before disappearing behind the door. Draco turned to his architect, whose name was Lawrence, and found that he had already stood up.

"And just _where_ do you think you're going?"

"Unfortunately," Lawrence started with a look that clearly contradicted what he'd said. "I have a prior engagement. Let me know how everything goes with the council, and we'll plan accordingly."

Draco glared at the lanky man but nodded and let him show himself out. He wasn't in the mood to pay attention to pleasantries.

He stood up and walked over to the large window in his office that overlooked the front grounds of his hotel; The Emerald Serpent. He'd worked non-stop every day since he'd left Hogwarts to make it into the finest hotel chain in England, devoting every fibre of his being into making it a success.

After the war he'd been determined to stand on his own two feet and not rely on his Father's money. The Malfoy name was no longer feared, but it still held a degree of respect. Respect for being one of the oldest pureblood lines in Wizarding History. Respect for maintaining its traditional principles in modern times. But that hadn't been enough for Draco. He knew that, if he didn't do something, he'd always be associated with negative connotations of the war, regardless of the fact that it was his Father's mistake.

So whilst completing his final year at Hogwarts; an easier task since the threat of impending death had evaporated, Draco began to plan his future. He'd overheard some third year Hufflepuff talking about how his father's hotel business seemed to be making a hell of a lot of money, and the cogs in his head started to turn.

Now with 20 branches all over the country, each complete with over two thousand rooms, a Michelin star restaurant and over three hundred acres of woodland encircling the buildings, The Emerald Serpent hotel was a name known all over, and he was finally recognised as a clever business man rather than a waste of space.

He'd made it this far without a hitch and he'd be damned if there would be one now. He always got his way, and this was no exception. The council could complain as much as they wanted, but there was no way that he was going to change his plans to accommodate them.

"DADDY!"

The sound of his five year old son's high-pitched squeal pulled him out of his thoughts and back to the present. He turned towards the now open door, and bent to lift the younger human being into his arms.

"Dylan! What are you doing here? Uncle Blaise was supposed to drop you off at five?" he exclaimed with a frown as he glanced at the large clock on the wall directly opposite his desk.

"Well," Dylan started before brushing a strand of his blond hair out of his face. "We were at the park and I was on the swings and then Uncle Blaise started talking to a nice lady who was also at the swings and then she walked away and Uncle Blaise told me that we had to come and see you because he had to get ready for a date. What's a date Daddy?"

Draco inwardly cursed at his friend's lack of tact, though wasn't really surprised. This was just like the time when he'd said that Millicent Bulstroad had a nice "arse" when Theo was two. It had taken precisely five large ice-cream sundaes and Merlin only knew how many chocolate frogs before the young Malfoy had finally dropped the subject.

"Um, a date is a boring thing that grown-ups have to go to sometimes." Draco answered with the most sincere look he could muster.

"Why do grown-ups have to go if it's boring?"

_Damn it! _

"Well, you know how you and I have to go food shopping every week in Diagon Alley?"

Dylan nodded in understanding, his dirty blond hair flopping about on his head.

"Well, we have to go otherwise we won't have any food to eat, but it's still really boring…"

"So, Uncle Blaise has to go on his date or else he'll starve?"

"No…yes! Yes, that's what I'm saying!" Draco said whilst shifting Dylan in his arms. He'd find out the truth in a few years time and by then he wouldn't even remember this conversation. Genius.

"Nice explanation Draco! I'm very impressed!"

Draco turned his attention to his friend standing by his office door and glared icily at him. Blaise just grinned in response.

"Whoever she is I hope she's worth it," Draco said whilst plopping Theo down into his big leather chair. He smiled affectionately as his son struggled to shift into a comfortable kneeling position in order to see over the top of the desk. For five years old, he was quite a small child.

"Oh, I think she is! Honestly, Draco, believe me when I say that she is beyond gorgeous and…"

"Save it Zabini! I've lost track of the amount of women you've called gorgeous and none of them have lasted longer than two weeks before their beauty faded!"

Blaise grinned in response.

"Whatever Malfoy. Sorry to drop you in it though."

"Don't worry about it. Not much is going on anyway, bloody accountants. I'l just take the rest of the day off."

"Good idea! I'll floo you tomorrow and let you know how everything goes," Blaise said whilst waving goodbye to Dylan.

"If you must," Draco replied in a tired voice before Blaise apparated. There was a time when he was like Blaise; careless and responsibility-free. Part of him missed the simplicity of it all, but a greater part of him appreciated the life he had now.

He turned his attention back to his son and smiled to himself. Out of all his achievements (and he had quite a few) Dylan was definitely the one he was most proud of.

Four years ago, at the ripe old age of twenty one, Draco had married his pregnant girlfriend Astoria Greengrass. It was a forced marriage based, not on love, but on what was morally right and acceptable. They'd stayed together for the full nine months, but unfortunately after Dylan's birth, Astoria developed post-natal depression. The best doctors were called in and she was given the best treatment and help, but in the end it had all been too much for her. She committed suicide leaving Draco to raise Dylan single-handed.

During these troubling times, Draco had gotten closer to his father again. There had been a period, after the end of the war, when they'd kept a firm distance from each other. Draco knew, to an extent, the guilt that his father felt, but didn't want to get sucked back into a world of empty promises. He'd blocked it out and concentrated firmly on his work, though still kept in touch with his mother. If this bothered Lucius he certainly didn't show it. And in some ways, that had really bothered Draco. He'd always wanted his father's love, but was never exposed to it openly because of his stupid pride. And apparently not even the threat of losing his son forever could squash it.

But when Astoria had gotten pregnant, Lucius had helped out a lot. He'd counselled and advised, but never taken over. He'd explained to Draco that marriage was an option, but not a necessity, and Draco had appreciated it a lot. He'd also helped immensely before and after Astoria's death, and took his role of a grandfather very seriously. Their relationship hadn't healed completely, but whatever antidote that was being used certainly helped.

"Come on mate, time to go home!" Draco exclaimed whilst lifting Dylan out of his chair and setting him down gently on the ground.

"Have you finished working now Daddy?" Dylan asked whilst fiddling with the laces on his shoes.

"Yes I have, and luckily for you I have the rest of the day off. What do you want to do?"

"Uuuum…can we go play Quidditch?" Dylan asked, dropping his laces instantly and smiling up at his father with a hopeful smile.

Draco grinned in response.

"Sure buddy, and then we'll go down to the Leaky Cauldron and I'll buy you a fire-whiskey on the rocks!"

Dylan pouted but didn't press the matter any further. He knew that Quidditch was one topic that his prized puppy-dog expression was worthless on.

They walked hand in hand from Draco's office through to the reception area; Dylan chattering at break-neck speed and Draco trying not to let his mind wander off onto other topics as it usually did when he 'conversed' with his son. As they walked down a flight of stairs and along a corridor Draco took mental notes of any little imperfections along the way; traces of dust, misplaced items etcetera. He treated his staff well and paid them more than what was required, only expecting satisfactory results in return he. He ran a tight ship and had no time for slackers.

As they approached the reception he felt Dylan's tiny hand leave his. He watched as his son ran towards the front desk and on to the lap of Nancy Gardener; The Emerald Serpent's main senior receptionist. At fifty-four years of age, Nancy was Draco's most loyal and trusted member of staff. She prided herself in not looking a day over forty with her shoulder-length brown hair, soft, clear skin with hardly any wrinkles, and a tall, slim body. She'd been with Draco since the start of the business and was a friend, mother, grandmother and employer rolled into one. As Draco had no actual relationship with his own grandparents he cherished her greatly.

"Hello aunty Nancy!" Dylan greeted as he settled down onto her lap. Nancy stopped writing and smiled lovingly at him.

"Hello cupcake! And how is the young Master Malfoy this afternoon?"

"I'm ok!" Dylan chirped, happy at the attention he received from her. "Daddy said that we can go wherever I want today, but I don't know where I want to go!"

Nancy looked up and saw Draco walking towards them, his eyes darting around the reception area. She smiled. The fact that the hotel had already won so many awards and critical acclaim for being the cleanest, friendliest, comfiest and most sophisticated establishment in all of England did little to stop him from making sure that everything ran smoothly at all times.

"Why don't you ask him to take you to Honeydukes? I hear they have some amazing new chocolates on sale. Or, how about that new toyshop in Diagon Alley; you could get yourself a new broom?" Nancy continued while playing with his hair. The young Malfoy had gorgeous hair; it came up to his shoulder, was a rare shade of dirty blond and was so soft that you could barely feel it. It framed his little face perfectly and added to his cuteness.

"Don't encourage him," Draco said playfully as he leaned against the glass counter, a small frown on his face.

"Pleeeeeeeeease can we go Daddy? I'll be ever so good! Please, please, please?"

Draco rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at Nancy who gave him a look of pure innocence as a response.

"Now look what you've done!"

"Draco, the boy is five years old! You're going to have to think of activities to stimulate him. Those toy brooms are completely safe and have been tested many times! Would I ever suggest something that could harm my favourite boy in the whole wide world?" Draco fought the urge to smirk as Dylan beamed at the last comment, knowing that she was referring to him.

"Fine, I'll take him. But if anything goes wrong I'm blaming you!"

Nancy ignored him and gave Dylan a chocolate from the bowl she kept behind the counter. Draco smiled and turned to the entrance where he saw a girl shaking hands with a rather tall man in smart dress robes. She was wearing a black pencil skirt that stopped just under her knees, a tight white blouse that showed a bit of cleavage and three-inch stiletto heels. Her whiskey coloured hair was tied up in a neat knot framing her heart shaped face; not a strand out of place. He didn't know why, but there was something about her that seemed…familiar? He squinted his eyes a little in an attempt to try and make sense of it.

"That's Hermione Granger; a lovely young lady actually. She just finished a business meeting with the head of St Mungos about some sort of funding. The poor lamb was so nervous when she came in – reapplied her make up _three_ times! Still, it seems to have gone well!"

Draco turned to face Nancy who was giving him a knowing smile, before processing what she'd just said.

"Wait, did you just say, _Hermione Granger_?"

Nancy nodded a curious look on her face. She watched as Draco turned back towards the entrance and ran out the door. What on earth had gotten into him?

Draco opened the heavy glass door and stopped abruptly as he saw Hermione wave the smartly dressed man off as he apparated. Once he'd disappeared he smirked as she undid her hair and ran a hand through the soft curls that were cascading down her back - a far c ry from the bushy nest that he could remember. She then proceeded to take her shoes off, and he got a rather nice view of her arse as she bent down. She slipped a little and fell over on to the gravel.

"Alright there Granger?"

Upon hearing the familiar drawl of the man she despised with every ounce of her being, Hermione bolted straight up into an awkward standing position considering one half of her was three inches higher than the other.

"Bugger, I was praying you wouldn't be here!" She said more to herself than to him.

"Well I can see why you would think that, you know, seeing as I own this place and all."

Hermione rolled her eyes and let her eyes familiarise themselves with his face. The famous blond hair and striking grey eyes were still there, though his face had…matured. He didn't look old, more grown-up with a hint of boyish charm that twinkled in his eyes. The fact that he was dressed in tailored black dress robes that seemed to fit him perfectly was dually noted, and she fought hard to stop a blush from creeping onto her skin when she felt his eyes on her.

"Believe me, had I been in charge of organising the meeting I was just in, _this _would not be my choice of venue!"

Draco frowned at her; so much for thinking that her personality had left along with the mop of uncontrollable tresses she used to harbour.

"And why not? Surely you aren't the type of person to stay away from an establishment simply because of your own personal feelings towards the owner?"

Hermione glared at him.

"Normally no, but I make a special exception for you Malfoy."

Draco glared back at her, though couldn't find it in himself to say something cutting. She was still know-it-all Granger to him, but something had changed. He no longer thought of her as a Mudblood, but she still annoyed him to no end. The fact that she was a muggle-born hadn't been the only reason as to why he detested her, but it had made a damn good excuse. Why was he finding it so hard to think of something hurtful to say?

"Well as…pleasant as this has been," she said snapping him out of his thoughts. "I have to get going."

Draco stared at her.

"And why is that Granger? Wait, let me guess, umm, you have to go and get ready for a hot date?"

Hermione suddenly found her skirt very interesting and began to smooth out any invisible wrinkles. Draco quirked an eyebrow at her in surprise.

"Wait, am I right? Does Gryffindor's prized bookworm have a _date_?"

Hermione raised her head and flicked her hair back.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I do."

Draco smirked at her offence at his remark. It was nice to know that he could still rile her up after all these years.

"Well in that case you'd better hurry. It's going to take a hell of a long time to make you remotely attractive to any one!"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but thought better of it at the last minute. Instead she decided on pulling her wand out of her pocket and apparating away, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Painfully Obvious **

**Chapter 2: ****The Fabulous Conversationalist **

"…so there I was, in the boutique with _both_ designers waiting for me to make my decision on which robe I wanted, and it was then that I realised just how _ludicrous_ the situation was! I mean, how on earth _is_ one supposed to decide between a fitted, navy-blue, velveteen number, or a sharp and precise cut made from the finest black silk?"

Hermione smiled politely and took a much needed sip of wine. She'd been sitting opposite her date for the past forty minutes and had barely spoken two sentences. Who would have thought a guy in this day and age could be so self-absorbed? She was sure that if she had to listen to one more chivalrous tale told from his mouth, she would truly burst – and it wouldn't be pretty.

She peered at the infuriating man sitting across from her over the rim of her glass. It was a shame really. He was insanely handsome with cupid-bow shaped lips and alluring hazel eyes, and had this husky voice which seemed to be essential for the main character in a trashy romance novel to possess. His name was Roger Davis and he owned a chain of publishing houses across Wizarding England. When Ginny had coerced her into going out with him she'd been all set to say no, but his connection to books had made her stop and think. If he owned publishing houses he must have a passion for books – just like her! It was so hard to find a man who appreciated books as much as she did. Maybe he understood how a well written piece of literature had the ability to transport the individual into a whole new world where the destiny of the characters involved was thought up, not by a powerful force greater than mankind, but by the prestigious author who had envisioned their tales in front of his or hers eyes.

Maybe he was the one?

Of course he wasn't. Meeting "the one" wasn't meant to happen to her, and whilst this may not have bothered her at first, it was beginning to get on her nerves. She knew that everyone had their flaws, but the prat sitting opposite her simply had a flawed personality, and there was no remedy for that. She'd never known anyone who could go on about themselves for as long as Roger could, and she had gone to Hogwarts with people like _Draco Malfoy_ for crying out loud!

_Speaking _of Draco Malfoy, she still couldn't get over the fact that she'd seen him earlier that day. When she'd conversed with the Head of St Mungos and agreed to meet at the Silver Serpent, she'd not realised _where_ she was consenting to going until an hour later, and by then it was too late.

When she'd arrived at the establishment, to say she was stunned would have been an understatement. Since Hogwarts she'd heard from others about the success of her nemesis, but had always dismissed it, assuming that he'd simply asked his father for an adequate sum of money, hired the best architect he could find and simply signed a few papers. It was only when she'd spoken to the very nice receptionist at the front desk that she'd learnt of his independence and, although she hated to admit it, she was incredibly impressed.

"…and of course I couldn't help but think that the poor chap was crazy! I mean, imagine trying to sell a book on a creature as volatile as a Hippogriff! I know that my team are good – I hired them for crying out loud, but they're not _that _good. Not even _I_ am that good!"

Hermione inwardly grimaced and, with a lot of forced politeness, excused herself. If she didn't get away from him soon she had a feeling that she'd end up shoving a bread stick in his mouth.

As she leaned across the cool marble counter in the empty ladies, Hermione looked at her reflection in the large, spotless mirror. She wasn't _ugly_. In fact, she was quite proud of her looks considering the fact that they weren't of prior importance to her. Not stressing out over her bushy hair during adolescence by over-loading it with heavy chemicals or glamour charms had certainly paid off, as the mahogany locks now rested just above her waist in luscious curls. Her skin had never been flawless like some of the other girls in her year, but it had never been _terrible_ either. Now without the stress of impending exams and possible death, her skin had was clear and blemish-free, causing her pretty features to be somewhat enhanced.

So how had it got to this? Being set up and coaxed to go out on dates and meet single men had always seemed so..._desperate_ to her. It wasn't that she couldn't get a man – she knew that if she treated the matter like it was one of her many patients with a puzzling ailment, she would be more than likely to meet her future husband without a problem. But, the sad truth was, that she, Hermione Jean Granger, didn't trust herself to come out of the situation victorious.

She was scared of failing.

A few months after the war had ended; she and Ronald Weasley had begun dating. Not because they were hopelessly in love with each other, and not because they felt it was expected of them. They simply found a sense of normality in the other that, in times of such uncertainty and unfamiliarity was incredibly appealing.

They were together for about eight months in which they both re-built their lives and supported each other. Neither of them felt the need to address the fact that their relationship would soon come to an end; there was no need to. After the eight months had passed Ron, a newly qualified auror, was transferred to Italy to work with a department there. The move was the perfect excuse they needed to part ways amicably, and they were both whole-heartedly grateful for it.

Since then there had been a few insignificant trysts with potential solutions, but nothing that had the potential to become something more. It got to the point where she felt that there must have been something about her that was _actually _repulsive. It was unlike her to give up on something she had yet to succeed in, but it was all too depressing for her. Instead she decided to focus on her work and worry about all of that nonsense later.

Speaking of nonsense, she knew she'd have to go back out and face that arrogant fool of a man at some point. She rolled her eyes and reapplied her lipstick and eyeliner before smoothing out the invisible wrinkles on her simple yet dazzling cocktail dress; unnecessary actions that were meant to delay her inevitable exit from the solitary confines of the ladies toilets.

Eventually, the young witch decided that enough was enough and bravely surfaced from the bathroom. She walked down the carpeted and narrow corridor before finally arriving back into the main restaurant, her eyes flicking over the dated artwork that adorned the walls in admiration. She was about to walk over to her date when…

"Granger? Fancy seeing you here!"

Upon hearing the familiar drawl the man she'd despised for so many years, Hermione fought the urge to scream in anger. It wasn't bad enough that she was having a rather "_crap_" date, but now the Godforsaken Draco Malfoy had just _had _to turn up and make an appearance. It was almost as if he could sense that she was having a miserable time and couldn't resist making things worse for her.

"Malfoy? It's quite extraordinary that I don't see you for so long after being forced to tolerate your infuriating presence for seven years, and then all of a sudden, you pop up twice in one day, don't you think?"

Draco smirked.

"It's hardly strange Granger, just a mere matter of coincidence. Although the fact that you were in _my _hotel earlier seems more deliberate than accidental…"

She felt his smokey eyes roam over her body before resting on her face again and forced herself not to blush, although it was incredibly hard given the fact that his gaze was so intense. She wondered if he knew how much weight his stare carried.

"So, what brings you here?" she asked after a moment, choosing to ignore what he'd said.

"A friend of Father's owns this place and he asked to see me. I need a new chef at one of my hotels and he said that he had someone in mind. Turns out the bloke doesn't have a clue what he's doing – he didn't even know the difference between a flan and a soufflé!"

Hermione laughed in spite of the fact that she was talking to Draco Malfoy. This had to be one of the most surreal moments of her life, and she didn't know how she was supposed to feel about it. The mere fact that she'd rather stand there and converse with Malfoy instead of her date confused her to no end.

"Well, if you need a chef I know that Lavender went into wedding planning. I could see if she knows someone…if you'd like?"

Draco blinked in surprise at her offer of help, and it seemed that Hermione was having some trouble processing it too. _Where the hell did that come from_? She asked herself incredulously.

"Well, at this point I'm happy to give anything a go. Um…thanks, Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened and she suddenly felt incredibly faint.

"Y-you're welcome, Malfoy."

They stood in silence for a few more moments before Hermione decided that it really was time for her to get back to her date.

"Well, as nice as this has been, I have to go."

"Ah yes, I assume you're still on your date? So who is the unlucky sod?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, but pointed towards the table where Roger was sitting. Draco's eyes squinted in curiosity before widening in pure shock.

"How the hell do you know Roger Davis?"

Hermione stared at him.

"How the hell do _you_ know him?"

"Granger, he's been coming to the bar in my hotel every week with a new female conquest for the past few months. I think it's safe to say that we are somewhat acquainted. I guess he doesn't really do it for you considering that you'd rather stand here and talk to me…"

Hermione simply stared at the blond man in front of her, unable to think of anything to say in return; it_ was_ the truth after all.

"It's not that I would rather stand here and talk to you, I am merely taking a few moments to myself before I return to Roger. He really is a fabulous conversationalist."

Malfoy smirked knowingly at her, his eyes silently mocking her. She shrugged it off and matched his stare with one of equal valour.

"Whatever Granger, you go back to your date with the 'fabulous conversationalist and, if I were you, I'd enjoy every minute of it. Because I'd bet my son's life on the fact that come tomorrow morning, he won't even remember your name!"

And with that, the former Slytherin apparated into thin air.


End file.
